


Icy Inferno

by Rigel99



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AO3 Tags - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angel Hannibal, Death Knows Best, Demon Will, Dialogue Heavy, Discworld References, First Kiss, Groovy God, Headcanon, Historical Fantasy, Love not Slash, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reincarnation, Romance, Sassy Satan, Second Chances, Soulmates, VERY VERY VERY slow burn, Verger Heir, Will Graham's Dogs - Freeform, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-05 02:15:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 17,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5357150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rigel99/pseuds/Rigel99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal dies. Will dies. </p><p>But now that Heaven and Hell have taken possession of their souls, what fate awaits them in the afterlife? </p><p>An alternate universe reality in which Hannibal and Will must work together to shape a replacement in the form of Mason and Margot's offspring, Michael Verger, to compensate for the untimely death of Hannibal Lecter by Will's hand. Subconsciously guided by their other world counterparts, Will in his demon form, struggles to come to terms with who and what he really is. Hannibal is helpful as always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pleased To Meet You

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to credit the inspiration behind the story to Michelle_A_Emerlind's rather wonderful A Spade of Truth.

Death smiles at us all.

Mind you, it’s a bit hard not to when your face is all teeth and skull.

Hannibal looked at the cowled shape and smiled back.

“IT GRATIFIES ME TO BE ABLE TO THANK YOU IN PERSON FOR YOUR MANY AND VARIED GIFTS, DR LECTER. I PARTICULARLY LIKED HOW YOU WRAPPED MR DIMMOND AND DISPLAYED HIM ABOVE MY MOSIAC.”

Hannibal gave a small bow. “At your service…”

They both looked away from each other at the shadowy, blurred shape coming into view and moving towards them.

“GOOD OF YOU TO JOIN US, MR GRAHAM.”

“That was the plan,” replied Will, looking at Hannibal with a relieved expression, as though given the closure he needed on seeing the successful execution of their fall into the Atlantic.

“YOUR DESIGN PERHAPS, MR GRAHAM. NOT MINE.”

Will looks at the hooded figure, a frown on his face. “I’m not sure I understand…”

“OF COURSE YOU DO NOT. HAD YOU UNDERSTOOD THE TRUE NATURE OF YOUR BEING, WE WOULD NOT BE HAVING THIS EXCHANGE. NOT YET.”

He moved towards Will and loomed over his slight form, all but consuming him with hollowed eyes.

“YOUR STORY - YOURS AND DR LECTER’S - IN ITS NEXT INCARNATION, HAD JUST BEGUN WITH THE SLAYING OF YOUR RED DRAGON. ALAS, YOU TOOK IT UPON YOURSELF TO END THE TALE BEFORE IT HAD EVEN BEGUN.”

Hannibal remained silent throughout. He wondered briefly if Death ever took a sabbatical, and if so, if He would allow him to stand in. 

“I DON’T APPROVE WHEN MORTALS INTERFERE IN **MY** DESIGN, MR GRAHAM. HOWEVER, ANY DECISION ON THE MATTER IS NOT MINE TO MAKE.”

Will and Hannibal watched as Death snapped his fingers. Two cracks appeared in the air beside Him, widening to accommodate the echoes of their human guise.

“DR LECTER, IF YOU PLEASE. HE’S WAITING.” Hannibal looked towards Will before entering the sliver of darkness, allowing it to envelope him. Will couldn’t deny the pang that rippled through his own shadowy form as he disappeared from his sight. 

He turned to Will then, His outstretched bony hand, guiding him towards the other portal.

“MR GRAHAM. IF YOU PLEASE.” Will went unresisting, swallowed up and spat out by the vortex instantly. He wasn’t sure what he had expected of the afterlife, but it wasn’t this.

“Well, well, well. If is isn't the hotshot profiling empath,” the Beast spoke with a timbre that vibrated through every cell in Will’s body, seduction oozing from every pore. “Welcome to Hell, Mr Graham. I've been expecting you…”


	2. First Circle Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Beast I have in mind in this instance is similar to Tim Curry’s portrayal of Satan in the movie Legend - and possibly with a sprinkle of his cheekiness as Frankenfurter in Rocky Horror.

“Tut, tut, tut, Mr Graham. You’ve been a very naughty boy to end up at my table, haven’t you?”

The initial confusion on Will’s face had been quickly replaced by stormy anger in the moments it took him to absorb his surroundings. “Naughty? I save numerous lives and this - THIS - is what I get for my trouble? Take down one Devil only to end up in the embrace of ANOTHER?!” 

“Now, now. Temper, temper, Will. Don’t feed the Beast. I’m empathic myself, you know. Capable of recognising the darkness in others and unleashing that which they would deny themselves,” he said softly, his lips curling up into something between a smile and a snarl. “When they can be bothered to listen.”

He clapped his large, expansive wings together with a snap that reverberated around the room. The air trembled and Will was quickly reminded of the endless power that stood before him, stretching forward and backward through time. “All those dreams I sent you. You fought me so hard. If only some of my own demons possessed your… tenacity…,” he said, not without a hint of affection.

“Anyway! I digress,” he said with a flick of his tail before taking a seat. The space around them had morphed into Hannibal’s study. “Please. Sit. I thought you would be more comfortable in familiar surroundings.” Will sat tentatively opposite. 

“First of all, let me begin by thanking you for returning my Dragon to me. The little tyke is always slipping his leash. He just got lucky when he found such a welcome and synchronous host in the Dolarhyde mortal.”

“You humans,” he said with a slow but purposeful shake of his head. “Always biting off more than you can chew. With the exception of unique and precious creatures like you and Hannibal Lecter of course.”

He paused to take in the precious sight in front of him before continuing. “May I tell you a story?” The voice smooth as silk washed over Will’s mind. Calm descended as he gazed upon the other worldly incarnate.

“Once upon a time there was a young boy. He was happy. Fulfilled. Complete. Destined to love and be loved in return. God created him. God loved him. But then God tested him. The boy wasn’t ready when War, Pestilence, Hunger and Death came knocking on his door.”

“God created Hannibal. But I saved him. And over time, he found a compromise within himself and a way back to his creator.”

Will listened with rapt attention.

“I created you, but God infused enough doubt in your mind about what you were meant to be, to bless the world with a soul so tortured, it took an angel disguised as a demon to help you see your own truth.”

He felt as though he was drowning in the blood-red gaze trained on his face. Will found he didn’t mind the feeling at all.

“Right now, Hannibal is bargaining for your soul with the Heavenly Divine,” he enthused with a wave of his hand.

Despite the lack of a corporeal body, Will could feel every word the Beast spoke as though it was made for him and him alone.

“He found you. He freed you. You gave him purpose beyond his design.”

“He did. I did...” Will found himself, whispering.

Satan sat back in the seat, his movements not dissimilar from those of his former doctor, and friend. “I wonder. Given another chance, will he give you purpose beyond yours?”


	3. Shot At Redemption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Divine One pops up now and again, gender is irrelevant. The entity will be referred to as a he or a she, depending on the mood of the writer and on said heavenly entity.

“Exquisite. As always, life flourishes beneath your touch, Divine One.”

“Hannibal,” She said, benevolence lacing Her voice, looking up from Her attentions watering the purple roses that lined the path. “So good to see you again. Albeit sooner than anticipated.”

Hannibal looked down with a degree of attrition. “I failed you.”

“No. You did not fail. You followed the human instincts instilled within exactly as you were supposed to do. Mr Graham, on the other hand… Will took the unexpected step, backwards off the cliff, rather than forward into your arms. And now, we must address the consequences of that response.”

“I cannot abandon Will to his fate. Not when he fought so hard to change it before that final embrace.”

“Will determined his fate the moment he altered both yours and his, Hannibal. You know this.”

Hannibal exuded the calm stillness in his soul that once infused his mortal form before he spoke. “I believe there is a way to amend his choice.”

“You have a solution in mind?” She said, turning her attention back to the flower beds, knowing what Hannibal was about to propose. Omnipotence requires understanding and guidance, not judgement and control.

“I do. There is a boy. The son of Alana Bloom and Margo Verger…”

* * *

“You’re positively glowing, Will.”

The ethereal aura around Will radiated from his form. “Not funny, Hannibal.” 

“It is certainly a skin you look more comfortable wearing.” Hannibal’s expression softened. “You are so beautiful like this. In your true form.”

Will scoffed. “You’re an angel, Hannibal. And you can hardly expect me to believe you find beauty in a demon.”

“And as an angel I cannot lie. I’ve never lied, if you consider our mortal interlude for a moment. You really must stop thinking in terms of good and evil, Will. Those constructs are for humanity to better understand their world. We operate outside those confines.”

Hannibal circled Will. “When I spoke of God, I spoke the truth. When I allowed the fire of encephalitis to consume your mind, it was with the subconscious intent of awakening your own self. When I gutted you, it was with the intent to set you free from your mortal trappings. Still, you clung to life.”

Will couldn’t contain the escape of an almost defeated sounding sigh. Echoes of his previous incarnation would take a little time to dispel. “I can’t understand what kind of God would wreck such havoc on the world by allowing you to roam free.” 

“The Wrath of God has its own purpose and it is not our place to question. Suffice to say, there were souls that were destined to move to the next plane of existence before they walked into darkness. Life is all about balance. In all things. And we must begin to restore that balance by addressing the conflict that still exists within you.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

Hannibal moved closer as Will retreated, keeping the space between them constant. “I can be the Earth upon which you burn, Will, the Air to fuel your flame and the Water to quench its rage when it threatens to consume you.”

“You still expect me to believe you didn’t know what you were? What I am?” Will asked, looking at him with an expression of one betrayed.

“I did not. We would not be able to fulfil our purpose if that purpose was predetermined by our harbouring knowledge of it. But I understood my drives, my desires. I did not deny them. I responded to and fulfilled them.” 

“By killing innocents?”

“Who are you or I to say they were innocent? I know now that some were destined for greatness for which the world was not ready. Others needed to be sent on their way before they strayed from the path and lost their way. They will be permitted other opportunities, in future incarnations. Fate is fluid, Will, but in their mortal form, their destiny was in the hands of a few men.”

“Men like Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham?”

Hannibal nodded. “And now those formerly Earthbound men in that form, have become duty-bound to ensure certain destinies remains intact.”

“Even though one of them, with full and complete intent, ended the other?”

Hannibal unfurled his wings and stretched them towards him. “Tell me something, Will. While it is true you ended me, there was a moment, was there not, when you almost kissed me?”

Will’s aura flared for the merest instant. He stood unmoved in his feathery silken embrace. The effect was not lost on Hannibal. “Why did you hesitate?”

Will held his gaze. There was no reason to lie, given that they were both standing naked mere inches from each other. “I hesitated because I feared that I would falter, fail to carry out that mutual end I had promised myself.”

Hannibal smiled. “There may be hope for you yet, Will.”

He unwrapped the demon and moved gently back. “So you will help me?”

“Do I have a choice?”


	4. Death Of A Mutual Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't find any named reference to Alana and Margot's son so I've simply called him Michael, mostly because I thought Michael Pitt's portrayal of Mason in Season 2 was a tour de force.

“But Mommy Ally. Is there nothing we can do?” 

Alana crouched down beside her son and cupped his cheek gently. “Oh baby boy. You know if there was anything me or Mommy M could do, we would move heaven and earth to save him.” 

The boy laid a tear-stained cheek into the animal’s fur and breathed in the canine’s scent. He closed his eyes and tried to will some of his own strength into the failing body. And although this was his first experience of Death, as he watched the light dim in his sparkling eyes, he understood in that moment it would not be his last.

Hannibal and Will stood side-by-side, concealed and unobserved in the space between dimensions, watching the scene. Echoes of Will’s mortality coursed through his being, punctuated by the memories of the pack with which he had bonded. Those unquestioningly loyal friends who had kept him tethered to reality. He fleetingly hoped that his blindness had not caused them any undue suffering. He was sure it had not. Dogs were born to love unconditionally. They enhanced humanity’s humanity whatever form that took.

Though lacking a mortal shell, Will’s aura shifted and flared, subconsciously reaching out to Hannibal for comfort and consolation. No demon should harbour such emotion. But then, Will could hardly be classified as a typical demon. There was no word yet in existence to describe what Will was. He felt his empathy surge towards the boy and his dog. 

As Will watched the last remnants of life depart Winston’s body, both he and Hannibal turned when they felt another presence enter the space they currently occupied.

“DR LECTER. MR GRAHAM. I’M GLAD YOU COULD BE HERE.” 

The boy now lay on his side, chest pressed against Winston’s back, eyes closed, fighting back the tears. “Can I just stay here for a little while? Hold him?”

Alana stood and smiled down at him affectionately. “Of course you can. Just remember. He was lucky to have two amazing men in his life that loved him very much. Not all dogs can say that.”

“Dogs can’t talk, Mom,” his voice sounding muffled by his face buried in the fur at the nape of Winston’s neck. 

“Of course they can,” Alana said. “You just have to open your eyes to listen.”

Margot had since appeared at the door to the living room and Alana walked to meet her. “You think he’ll be OK?” she asked Alana.

“He’s a Verger,” replied Alana. “Vergers are survivors.” Margot took Alana by the arm and they both glanced over their shoulders before leaving the room, evidently to give the child some time to process the loss in his own way.

“HIS FIRST EXPERIENCE OF DEATH. NICE AND GENTLE, DO YOU NOT THINK? CERTAINLY LESS TRAUMATIC THAN SOME HAVE KNOWN,” the skull said, diverting his gaze to Hannibal.

Hannibal looked away from the boy then. “You don’t consider the loss of a beloved sister at a tender age to be felt more keenly than that of an animal?” he enquired with genuine curiosity.

“IT VERY MUCH DEPENDS ON THE DEGREE OF ATTACHMENT. TRUE SHE WAS YOUR SISTER, BUT THE HEIR TO THE VERGER EMPIRE IS ALONE. DESPERATELY SO. HIS PARENTS REMAIN IN HIDING AND ISOLATION. HE FEELS THE LOSS OF HIS CANINE CONFIDANTE JUST AS KEENLY.”

In the moments Will had kept his eyes fixed on the scene, the shadowy form of his former four-legged friend made his way, wagging tail and all, over to his former master.

Will crouched down. “Winston…,” he choked. He looked at Death then. “He can see me?”

“THERE IS NO FOOLING DOGS, MR GRAHAM. HE HAS BEEN ABLE TO SEE YOUR TRUE FORM EVER SINCE YOU RESCUED HIM FROM THAT DESERTED ROAD.”

He licked Will’s hand before turning towards Death and sitting by his side, patiently waiting.

“DR LECTER. MR GRAHAM. I BID YOU FAREWELL. FOR NOW,” Death’s parting words floating in the space between them.

They both turned back to the boy, who was sitting up and wiping a tear-stained face with his sleeve. He looked up then, at the space they occupied, and frowned.

“Can he… see us?” Will asked.

“Not exactly,” replied Hannibal. “He is aware of something but we are not visible to him. The mind of a child vibrates at a different frequency to that of an adult. It is unsullied and uncorrupted by the trials of maturity. The nature of the Universe is clearer to them, being of clear, pure mind.”

“He is also very compassionate.”

“Will,” Hannibal chided. “Need I remind you I am the angel here, you are the demon? You need to shift your perspective towards his darkness so we can better understand how to harness it.”

Will frowned at him. “Harness his darkness? What are you talking about, Hannibal?”

“Inevitably, the young Verger will take my place in this world, defined by his own form and function. We are here to help shape that form.” He smiled at Will. “The nature of the Universe cannot be altered by the desires of one empathic demon, Will, and while your intentions were good, they were in direct conflict with who and what you are.”

“So my punishment is to now redress the imbalance I inadvertently caused.”

Hannibal shook his head. “Don’t think of it as punishment. A redemptive strike for humanity is a much more appropriate definition.”

“Michael Verger,” he smiled at the boy, who was still staring through their space, as he caressed Winston’s lifeless body. “Your life is about to get very interesting indeed…” 


	5. About A Boy

“Just so we’re clear, I’m not happy about this.”

Hannibal and Will sat in the study of the Bloom-Verger household, flanking but equidistant from Michael Verger, while Alana worked in silence at her desk. Michael was lying on his stomach on a rug a few feet away, surrounded by various books, quietly absorbing the knowledge of multiple worlds laid out before him.

“Maybe you can lodge your disquiet with the Fallen One. I’m sure he’ll take your… concern… under advisement, Will,” Hannibal replied, watching the boy, processing his reactions to what he was reading.

Will sighed in resignation. “Or maybe I should just suck it up and get this over with.”

“Or perhaps that would indeed be the more prudent course of action,” replied Hannibal, not taking his eyes off the boy.

Will stood and walked to a bookshelf in the impressive library, running his fingers along a few of its residents spines. “Everything a growing boy needs…” He paused over one, and nudged it gently forward.

Michael looked up a few heartbeats later towards the book protruding from the shelf. He rose and made his way over with the intention of pushing it back to its rightful position, but instead pulled it free and read the title:

 _“The evolution of social exclusion and its association with cooperation: A collection of scholarly articles_.”

He opened it at the index to peruse the contents. Hannibal smiled to himself at Will’s choice.

Will looked at Hannibal. “Given the unusual circumstances in which you and I have found each other, this certainly tops the lot.”

“To what particular aspect of the circumstances are you referring, Will?” he asked, then paused when he met Will’s gaze before answering his own question. “Ah I see. Indeed, we have stripped each other’s minds and the minds of others bare until there was nothing left to hide, but never have we been quite so completely… candid? in each other’s presence?”

“Candid. Ever the wizard of subtle wordplay, Doctor,” Will gently huffed.

“Clothes address a desire for modesty combined with the need to express some form of group identity, belonging or authority through fashion and uniforms. They are unnecessary here, don’t you agree? And given that we no longer inhabit corporeal forms…”

“We are no longer distracted by our physical desires,” concluded Will.

“Were you ever distracted, Will?” Hannibal enquired plainly, moving to look over Michael’s shoulder as he flicked idly through the collection, determining if it was worth further attention.

“Occasionally perhaps. Though my mind was usually too preoccupied with the occupation of constant differentiation between my reality and that of everyone else’s to be distracted by such things.”

Will assumed his seat again, a few feet from Michael, who had now returned to his position on the rug. “How long do you envision us having to commit ourselves to this task?” he asked.

“Time is also another construct with which you should become less concerned, Will. We are, in effect, bound to Michael’s timeframe and that depends on how long it takes our intubation of the chrysalis to take effect. We are the catalyst for his own becoming.”

Will looked at Alana then. “I didn’t even have one mother. Michael gets two. Do you think… think that’s why I became the way I did? Struggling endlessly with my empathy?”

Hannibal moved to Will’s side then, sat down next to him and placed a cool hand on his fire-soaked skin.

“Yes,” he said. “Her absence in your formative years will certainly have played a significant part in who you became. All our mortal experiences defined us, and we, in turn, defined life. There is a theory that life creates the Universe, not the other way around. I believe when it comes to the worlds that the human mind can create, merely through thought and dreams, there is a solid foundation for that theory.”

“Michael’s darkness is a seedling, lying dormant,” Will said softly, looking at the boy absently fisting the soft rug beneath him as he read. 

“On which you will shine the light, I will help grow, and together, we shall nurture until it comes to fruition.” Hannibal stood and offered his hand to Will who took it to stand before him. “You created this fate for us, Will. The sooner you embrace it wholly and without compunction, the better the outcome. For you, for me, but especially for Michael.”

They left the boy to his own devices for a moment and found themselves in the back garden, lounging on a cushioned bench, nestled amongst a few blossoming cherry trees. Hannibal continued their exchange. “In a relatively short time, Michael’s home schooling will end and he will enter the social phase of his development. It will be challenging. He will not be accepted by his peers, which is where the role you and I play in his life becomes more interactive.”

“Interactive? How?”

Hannibal smiled then. “Fancy going back to school, Mr Graham?”


	6. Divine Beast

The balcony shimmered and swirled with the pattern of far-flung galaxies that would not be reached by mortal men for countless lifetimes to come. The Divine One sat in a swirl of clouds that gently caressed Her temporary bodily form. With infinite patience, She awaited the arrival of Her Morning Star to attend their ritual tryst, a reminder of what they once knew but had since lost. Lost to them at least until the Universe began to coalesce once again. She heard the flutter of expansive wings somewhere above. She smiled. Even though eternity flanked their existence, He couldn’t resist the occasional act of rebellion.

“You’re late.”

“Heightens the anticipation,” He replied, smooth as glass.

She shook Her head, causing the particles of light to eddy around Her. “What am I to do with You, You cheeky Devil?”

“I’d settle for dinner and a show as long as I got to take You home at the end of time…”

“Ever the charmer.”

“You may be impervious to said charm, but You can’t blame Me for trying to corrupt You. I am what I am.”

“And the Universe wouldn’t have it any other way, Morning Star,” She said, affectionately. “Won’t You sit?”

The Beast reclined his body and gazed at His divine counterpart. “I miss You.”

“And I You,” She replied. “But We are the mercy of the random design of the Universe…”

“Not entirely,” He countered.

“No, not entirely,” She said. “We can guide and influence…”

“A little nudge here, a little shimmy there…,” He said with a toothy grin.

She laughed then, the sound echoing rain falling on heather. “As I recall, Your “nudges” can be a tad catastrophic.”

He guffawed in return. “The nerve of it!” incredulity lacing his tone, deep as the cavern in Her heart that He once occupied.

She sighed. “I miss the frequency of these entertaining little tussles. Be they intellectual or otherwise.”

“We have good reason to meet on this occasion.”

“Indeed. We have not met since You corrupted my Angel…,” She said in mock irritation.

“Got your attention though,” He returned her look with a wry smile. “You did push him too far. And if You are playing fair, it wasn’t so much corruption as dark redemption. Still yet, he found his way back to You,” Morning Star replied. “You are like the gravity at the centre of all Universes. Nothing can escape your pull.”

“As if You’d ever truly desire escape from Me,” She said. “I consider Our severance as nothing more than a sabbatical.”

He flicked his tail. “Flirtatiously changing the subject, Divine One?”

“Guilty as charged,” she tipped her head towards him. “You can’t blame Me for trying. You always were a bad influence on Me.”

He bowed in agreement. “Likewise I’m sure.”

He turned them back to the subject at hand, not missing His turn to be the mock accuser. “Even My own Demon, in whom You planted your seeds of good, couldn’t allow himself to love Hannibal in a moment which should have bound them to each other eternally.” The Beast looked out across the endless expanse. “Neither space nor time can keep them apart. Will is just taking his sweet time coming to that inevitable conclusion.” 

“So the union didn’t come to a natural conclusion. But here and now, We agree that through Michael, they have another chance to find each other.” She sighed, causing the stars in her immediate vicinity to shimmer and shudder under Her breath. “How did things get so complicated?”

“That’s what happens when an Angel falls in love with a Demon. Controlled chaos,” Morning Star replied. “Nothing in existence knows that better than You and I.”

“Too well,” She said, as on countless worlds, rain began to gently fall. “Once they assume mortal form again, We cannot interfere. They will be invisible to Us. The outcome of their fusion is blinded to Us as well.”

“We agree the level of risk is acceptable. And Will has learned much from his previous incarnation which he can retain and draw upon as required.”

“Why did You ever leave My side?” She sighed.

“Because You were selfish?” 

“And You were impossible.”

The silence hung between them for an immeasurable pulse. He warmed the air around them with a beat of His wings, as He watched Her features shifting through time. “Let Us hope together that We are not asking the impossible of Our two Angels…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the first arc of the story for you. Now, I must take a break and a little time to plan the onward path of Hannibal, Will and Michael. Hope everyone who's given it a go has enjoyed the tale so far. Wings crossed that destiny is kind to our boys. They've been through so much already.


	7. Knights of Old

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So last night I treated myself to my first viewing of King Arthur, and the long short of it, I couldn't resist writing another chapter of the fantasy element of the story before we become Earthbound again. Guilty as charged...

“Before we begin, I need to show you something.” 

“Very well,” Will replied. “I’m almost passed being surprised by anything I’ve seen since our end,” he smiled, a touch rueful.

“This is good,” Hannibal replied. “You will need to lose all vestiges of your former self before we can begin guiding Michael down his own path of discovery.”

Will did not flinch as Hannibal placed a cool hand on his chest, where his heart would have been. “Close your eyes…”

* * *

“He looks at you the way his hawk looks at her prey before she tears off a chunk of its meat.”

Galahad glanced at Dag, who was looking at him slyly as he spoke in hushed tones. Celebrations for their last day in servitude were in full swing and wine and ale was flowing faster than the nearby river rapids. Galahad didn’t have to look down the table to know to whom he was referring.

“The man cannot bear me, nor I him. This is our last night together as comrades. Let us not mar it by speculating on Tristan’s… proclivities, shall we, Dag?”

“Humph,” he grunted humorously, as he returned his smiling gaze to the celebration dance underway nearby. Galahad looked at Tristan then, but the man’s attention was lost in the eyes of his hawk…

* * *

Galahad stood above the bowl of water gazing at the reflection staring back at him, the expression of a man weary and defeated. Where only moments ago, his freedom, after 15 years in servitude to the Romans had been assured, those assurances had come crashing down around him. Arthur had asked them to undertake one final task. He wondered if Fate would dole out the ultimate cruelty and ensure it was indeed his last.

He reached for the knife, jutting out from the vertical beam next to him. In that moment, he felt it vibrate and snapped his head around to see another similar blade, embedded in the base of its handle.

He didn’t turn to see the intruder as he spoke. “By all the Unholy Gods, Tristan, is it too much to ask that you control the urge to rid me of parts of my body when I least suspect it? It’s enough of a challenge keeping our enemies at bay,” he said, exasperation in his tone.

He bent down and cupped his hands to splash water on his face. By the time he was done with the brief ritual, Tristan was leaning against the beam, one arm folded across his chest, the other arm’s hand, holding out a dry cloth. Galahad frowned at him as he snatched it from him. He turned his bare back to Tristan - a measure of the regard and trust in which these men held each other - and moved to retrieve his shirt from his bed.

“You were about to shave off your beard. I thought to discourage that plan.”

Galahad paused for the briefest of moments in doing up his shirt. It irritated him no end that Tristan could read him so well. “Why?”

He shrugged lightly. “It suits you.” He paused, as though thinking better of the comment. “And were you to remove it, you would look like a 12-year-old boy. Romans the length and breadth of Britain would be lining the valleys to make you their own,” he said, with a knowing smirk.

Not five years ago, such a comment would have resulted in Galahad drawing his sword and teaching the man a lesson. Or at least try to. Grudgingly, he had to admit, he had learned many valuable combat skills under his watchful eye.

Instead, he strolled up to Tristan in his unmoved, leaning position against the beam and stood before him. “What better way to force my opponent to drop his guard? Thinking he’s facing down a ripe, young boy on the verge of manhood before I gut him with the edge of my blade?”

Tristan’s eyes visibly darkened, watching him closely but guarded through the auburn locks that covered much of his features. “Mmmm. Perhaps you do take a little pleasure from the kill, Galahad. Much as you try to deny it to yourself and others.”

Galahad remained silent as he turned away, only to have Tristan reach for him, reflexes lightning quick, and grab his wrist before the young man retreated.

“We each wrestle our demons in our own way,” he said, eyes hard as steel.

Galahad wrenched his wrist from his grip, feeling the after effects of Tristan’s touch tingle up his arm. “While others would embrace them with wanton abandon…,” he replied through gritted teeth.

Tristan moved then to block him bodily. “I am not the demon here, Galahad. I, at least, know who and what I am.”

He lifted his head stubbornly. “And I do not? I sit at Arthur’s table, equal to every other knight with the same honour!”

Tristan leaned towards him and whispered. “You are a child amongst men.” He could see the seething in Galahad’s expression but admired his unwavering stance nonetheless.

Galahad’s tone was low and threatening. “Were we not in need of every single body we had for this Saxon suicide mission, I would gut you were you stand.”

“And, you would probably find pleasure in that as well,” replied Tristan smoothly, his mood switching easily back to calm and unthreatening. Galahad blinked, the change so rapid, his brain barely had time to process their exchange.

Tristan took a small step back, maintaining his position between Galahad and the door. “Tell me, Brother Knight. What was your very first impression of me when we met at Camelot? The first word that entered your head?”

“Arrogant,” he said, without hesitation.

Tristan smiled. “Perhaps you mistake confidence for arrogance. Easily done by such a young and impressionable mind.” 

Galahad allowed the constant references of youth and inexperience to wash over him. “And you, Tristan. Your first impression of me?”

“Curious.”

“What do mean by cur—?” Galahad found his words cut off by the sudden positioning of Tristan’s lips on his own. He barely had to time to process the event - and event it was, as every nerve in his body pulsed long and bright for the duration of their mutual exploration.

Tristan released him. “And I see I was correct in my impression,” he said, smiling, as he retreated from the room, leaving a bewildered young knight alone to contemplate what had just happened.

* * *

Galahad walked through the blood-soaked field and surveyed the carnage. The battle was won, the Saxons overcome but the cost was great. He looked up to see the hawk circling above, before falling to his knees beside the prone body of his brother-in-arms. He felt his heart slow, and stop, for nothing more than a beat. Death by a thousand cuts would surely be less agonising than this…

* * *

Will reeled back from Hannibal and the force of the memory. Nothing he’d imagined had ever felt so real.

“Because it was real,” Hannibal said quietly, reading his thoughts. “You and I are bound through eternity, Will. Each incarnation is unique, but we always find each other, lose each other, find each other again, as we have done through countless lifetimes.”

He took both his hands in his own. “We are close now, to finding rest and peace from our mortal incarnations.”

Will nodded, the echoes of images and the associated emotion still bouncing through the atoms in his aura. “Show me more?” he asked, hesitant in the question as though unsure he wanted to see more.

“All in good time,” said Hannibal. “We have a lot of it after all. Our last incarnations brought us closer than ever, hence why we now find ourselves here. And whenever we are in need of such, this is where one will find the other.”

Will regained his composure and spoke with a quiet determination. “What do we have to do?” 


	8. Another Time, Another Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like a lot of people who enjoy science fiction and fantasy, I am a huge fan of the multiverse theory. Because it basically means infinite possibilities exist in an infinite number of worlds.
> 
> Unknown to their human counterparts in this Universe to which they have been transported, Angel Hannibal and Demon Will inhabit human Hannibal and Will in an effort to subtly guide the hands of their counterparts in shaping a future for Michael Verger that continues Hannibal’s legacy in the future.
> 
> Their relationship as their other worldly Angel and Demon beings will develop as the story progresses.

The gentle tapping on his office door was a welcome interruption for Professor Hannibal Lecter, a respite from marking the papers that would determine which children would be permitted entry this year into Chilworth House School.

The Head of the Language Department, Frederick Chilton, poked his face around the edge of the door.

Maybe not such a welcome interruption then, Hannibal thought to himself.

“Ready, Hannibal?”

“Ready for what, Frederick?”

Chilton rolled his eyes impatiently as he opened the door more fully.

“The interview? The final candidate for the counsellor position?” He looked at his nails, radiating indifference towards his colleague. “I _did_ send you a memo.”

Hannibal looked back down at the submission papers again. “Most assuredly, you did not send me a memo, Frederick.”

“Well, denials and accusations aside, he’s here and Beverly expects your attendance on the interview panel. She seems to be under the misguided illusion that you are in possession of some _“mystical ability”_ when it comes to reading interviewees,” he said, another roll of his eyes accompanying a waving of hands. “I mean if you are so _gifted,_ why aren’t you teaching something other than art to these brats?”

Hannibal smiled. “No need to be jealous, Frederick,” he said casually, as he rose from his behind his desk and stalked around it towards the door.

Frederick subconsciously backed away as he approached. He had no inkling why, but something about the way the man occupied the space around himself conjured up an image of a lioness moving unseen through long grass.

“Jealous?” he scoffed. “Hardly.”

Truth be told, Frederick often wondered why Hannibal didn’t want his own position, given his multilingual abilities and the fact that it was far better paid. It was an intolerable fact of life that Hannibal Lecter was exceptional at most things in which he took an interest. The more gifted children revered him and held him with a awesome regard, while he usually struck the special needs children dumb, as though they were seeing something other worldly that defied description.

Hannibal fell into step beside the man as they walked towards the Principal’s office. Beverly Katz was a fair and patient woman but Hannibal was never one to take liberties. Unless, of course, invited to do so. Besides, he was keen to meet the new potential. All previous applicants had failed to impress Hannibal - he had found legitimate reasons to dismiss them - and by extension, also failed to impress Principal Katz. Hannibal was difficult to please, but given the nature of their work and the responsibilities that came with being entrusted with the futures of such exceptional minds, Hannibal considered his standards more than fair.

The walk to her office was relatively short and Frederick threw a haughty look over his shoulder at Hannibal before tapping on the door, requesting entry.

“Come in!” Beverly’s voice soft but no less commanding for that fact.

She rose and smiled at her colleagues, gesturing for them to take their place in the vacant chairs on either side of her own, behind her desk. The potential candidate rose to greet them as they assumed their positions.

“Hannibal, Frederick. May I introduce Dr Will Graham.”

Hannibal wasted no time in his appraisal of the man. The handshake was firm but gentle. The eyes were guarded but penetrative in their own assessment of each of them, Hannibal noted. His inner confidence was reflected in the manner in which he held his body, Hannibal imagined such being the case in any way Will Graham wished to present it. He had known his own pain but had not shied away or run from that pain, choosing instead to embrace it. In essence, he was perfect for the counselling position.

Hannibal instantly decided he disliked him.

Hannibal had had his eye on said position for some time. The appeal of influencing such young and malleable minds was quite intoxicating in its own way, especially the minds of children with such marvellous potential. Quite the legacy.

Will Graham was flawless in his experience, his interview technique and charming manner. By the end of it, Beverly Katz was positively salivating at the prospect of ensconcing him in the position.

An hour passed and the interview came to a close. Will Graham thanked the panel for the opportunity and took his leave, told he would be informed within 48 hours if he had been successful. Hannibal observed the singular focus he bestowed on Beverly. Evidently, he mused, Dr Graham doesn’t find anyone else in the room that interesting. Hmmm. He will, he thought to himself.

Beverly had a dazed expression on her face that one might associate with a cat that had discovered the power of Nepeta cataria.

“Well?” she asked them both.

“He’s quite perfect,” said Frederick, tapping his pen on her table, feigning thoughtful consideration.

Hannibal spoke through the bridged index fingers resting in front of his lips. “I’m not so certain.”

They both looked at him incredulously. “You can’t be serious, Hannibal,” Beverly said in disbelief.

He stood. “You know I only have the best interests of this school’s reputation at heart, Principal Katz,” said Hannibal calmly.

He sighed. “However, as I can see I am in the minority on the matter may I suggest a compromise. One month on probation before we commit ourselves to his employment.”

Beverly’s eyes narrowed. Hannibal’s motivation for such a stance unclear to her. She had never clashed with him on employee selection before, but on Will Graham, she had never been more certain of a person’s suitability for a given role.

She decided to meet him halfway, confident that her choice would come up trumps for her, the children and the school.

“Very well.”

Hannibal nodded and bid them a good weekend. As he returned to his office to retrieve his coat and bag, his thoughts wandered to Will Graham, and the manner in which he would effectively discredit him. There was something about him that simply did not sit right. He was too perfect. His imperfections, the perceived vulnerabilities that radiated from his surface were false, merely skin deep, just disarming enough to win unsuspecting hearts and minds. Such men were not to be trusted.

Hannibal had thirty days to demonstrate that Will Graham was one such man.


	9. Brief Encounter

"You, Verger, are a goddam, fucking pussy."

Two weeks into the new term and the boundaries that defined some students from others were already established. Should a six-year-old boy be subject to such stress so early in life at the hands of his peers, Michael thought to himself? Well, alleged peers more appropriately perhaps, he corrected.

"Hardly a surprise. Seeing as you're being raised by two of them." The harsh laughter of the other girls stung, harder than the tears threatening to breach the corner of his eyes.

He would not, however, give them the satisfaction. They were older, and bigger. But he wasn't afraid of a little pain. Emotional pain was much more jagged but he was smart enough to stave that off. And anyway, the bigger they are…

"I'm surprised you know what a pussy is, Felicity. When every day you are forced to look in the mirror and see a giant asshole staring back."

The girl's grip tightened on the lapels of his jacket and hauled him closer to her face. "Why you little…" Her hand was raised, the strike across his face imminent. He could see it coming and anticipating the feel of the accompanying sting, braced himself mentally and bodily for the impact. She felt the reaction and smiled wickedly.

"FELICITY SHORE!"

The smile faded as quickly as it had appeared and she immediately released her grip on the boy. Her expression transformed from demonic to angelic quicker than Michael blinked.

"Oh, good morning, Professor Lecter!"

The other three girls in Felicity's posse had mysteriously vanished in the intervening seconds.

"May I enquire as to what you are doing in the hallway, manhandling one of the juniors?" Hannibal stopped two feet in front of them and looked at his watch. "Your next class is due to start in moments."

She and Michael stood contritely before the teacher. "Michael slipped and his books and papers went EVERYWHERE! I helped him up and was about to help him gather up his materials when you appeared, Professor." Her head remained bowed but her eyes slanted upwards, a demure expression in her eyes.

One to watch, thought Hannibal to himself. He quite relished the idea of elevating some students to achieve their true potential while levelling those who thought a little too highly of themselves and their capabilities.

He turned his attention to the boy. "Is this true, Mr Verger?"

Michael didn't hesitate. He would handle the girl in his own time, in his own way. Likely when she least expected a retaliation. He allowed the thought to warm him. "Yes, Professor. I was clumsy and Felicity saw fit to risk being late for class to assist me."

He turned to her then. "Thank you, Felicity. I am in your debt."

"My pleasure, Michael," she said with a nod in his direction and a sweet smile through almost gritted teeth. "May I be excused now, Professor?"

Hannibal knew he was lying. He also recognised the subtle play between students that could lead to something dangerous. Equally, one to watch, he thought, considering the chubby boy and his white blond mop. Little little wolf in sheep's clothing, came the almost involuntary and surprising insight into Hannibal's mind.

"You may go, Miss Shore," he nodded, before she hauled her bag over her shoulder and jogged down the corridor.

Hannibal crouched down to bring his face level with the boy who was gazing at the ground, waiting to be dismissed.

"Why did you lie for her, Mr Verger?"

Michael looked up then, into eyes that broached no disagreement with the question.

He met the gaze. "Technically, she lied, Professor. I simply chose to relay my version of the truth."

Hannibal found it a challenge to conceal the impressed look threatening to break across his features.

"Very well, Mr Verger. I hope you know what you are doing."

He gave a small, unsure smile then. "So do I, Sir."

Hannibal paused. He should send the boy to Will Graham. He should.

"Well, if ever you need someone with whom to discuss anything, you know where to find me. You'll find I can be quite the confidante."

Michael frowned slightly. "For such a misdemeanour, I would have thought you'd send me to the counsellor…"

Hannibal stood then and placed a hand gently on the boy's shoulder, steering him in the direction of the library, where, having taken a personal interest in the boy, Hannibal knew he was heading for his study period.

"In my experience, there are many ways in which one can successfully channel the demands of their natural tendencies without the need to speak of them to those who take a professional interest in dissecting the human mind, Mr Verger."

Michael gazed up at the man as though he was seeing him for the first time, or at least, through newly appreciative eyes. Hannibal knew the boy was lacking a male role model in his life. He could tell he was contemplating the offer, and if Hannibal was reading the situation correctly, would fully assess the ramifications before coming to a definitive conclusion.

Michael stopped and held out his hand. "Thank you, Professor. I don't have many friends. It's nice to know that one of my teachers would care enough in the way you demonstrated your care today. Not just for my educational wellbeing as is truly your only responsibility…"

Hannibal shook the hand offered. "You are most welcome, Mr Verger. I'll see you in my class tomorrow. You have completed the assignment, I assume?"

"Oh yes, Sir," a beam across his face. "I think you'll like my interpretation."

"I shall certainly look forward to your offering," Hannibal replied.

He smiled as he watched the boy stroll off, a subconscious purpose newly displayed in his small stride. He turned on his heel to retreat to his own office. He hadn't planned on using the boy to discredit the abilities of Dr Graham but Hannibal was never one to miss an opportunity as and when it presented itself.

What Hannibal would soon learn, however, was that Dr Graham was a man of a similar disposition to his own.


	10. An Interlude in Hell, Dreams of Another Life

Death stepped forward and felt the squelch of flesh and the crack of bone beneath his own.

He lifted his foot to look with disdain on the former man stuck to the bottom of his first metatarsal, laughing manically at the absurdity of the Hell in which he currently found himself.

Death flicked the offending soul off his… well… sole…

He heard the silence descend. His beckoner had made an appearance.

“WHAT AM I DOING HERE, FALLEN ONE?”

The Beast made a show of his ignorance on the fact of the question.

Death felt himself attempt a sigh, through non-existent lips and absent lungs.

“IF WE ARE TO PLAY 20 QUESTIONS, ALLOW ME TO CUT TO THE CHASE.”

He lifted bony fingers to his cowl and drew it back slowly to reveal his glowing skull.

“WILL GRAHAM.”

“I admit I am quite curious about our alternate Universe investment. Do tell! How IS he getting on with the Verger Project?”

Death folded his robed arms. “YOU AGREED, MORNINGSTAR. IF I DIVULGE ANY INFORMATION ON THE SUBJECT TO YOU, I AM OBLIGED, UNDER THE TERMS OF YOUR AGREEMENT, TO INFORM THE DIVINE ONE OF THE SAME.”

“Of course, of course!! All’s fair in life, death and the pursuit of coalescence after all! It would benefit no element in the Universe were evil to have the upper hand. Where’s the fun in that?”

“AS LONG AS THAT REMAINS THE UNDERSTANDING. I WOULD NOT WISH TO BE ACCUSED OF FAVOURITISM IN THE MATTER.”

He knelt down to pat Winston who had approached him in greeting. Death always did have a soft spot for animals, unmarred by the apparent progressive proclivities of man who were in no way, shape or form yet capable of dealing with said progression. A good dog by all accounts. Though he had ended up in the correct afterlife after mauling his unusually cruel owner and burying him in the forest close to where Will had picked him up.

Death conveyed his thoughts directly to Winston. One of the many advantages of being Death. You were not bound by good or evil. You simply WERE, and could easily speak to those who understood you without judgement from any quarter.

“YOU MISS HIM, WINSTON. DO NOT WORRY. I AM SURE HE WILL GET IT RIGHT. THIS TIME ROUND.”

He looked up at Satan. Diplomacy had always been his strong suit. He had millennia of practise after all.

“THE SITUATION IS PROGRESSING IN COMPLETE ALIGNMENT WITH NON-PREDICTIVE INTERFERENCE.”

Satan clapped his hooves together in a moment of glee. “Excellent!” So according to your assessment, no outside interference, nothing to suggest the boy is picking up unchartered vibes from the Universe or any of that jazz?”

“PRECISELY. HANNIBAL AND WILL ARE PROGRESSING ALONG THE TIMELINE AS THEY SHOULD AND HAVE DONE IN EVERY OTHER.”

“But when it comes to the crunch…”

Death raised a bony finger. WHEN IT COMES TO THE “CRUNCH”, BOTH YOU AND THE DIVINE ONE NEED TO RESTRAIN YOURSELVES AND ALLOW THE MOMENT TO PLAY OUT AS IT WAS MEANT.”

Satan looked momentarily chastised.

“YOUR IMPATIENCE DOES YOU NO FAVOURS, MORNINGSTAR.”

He turned to depart the conversation. “TRY WALKING IN MY COWL FOR A LIFETIME OR TEN. WATCHING IDIOTS SQUANDER THE BEAUTY OF THEIR MOMENT IN TIME, POWERLESS TO DO ANYTHING BUT STEP IN WHEN THAT TIME IS UP. WHY DO YOU THINK I HAVE NO FLESH ON MY BONY FRAME? IT HAS BEEN WORN AWAY BY ALL THE WRINKLED FRUSTRATION.”

Satan nodded. “I wish I could feel what you feel.”

“TRUST ME. YOU DO NOT,” Death said, the pull of Heaven tugging him away. “FAREWELL, MORNINGSTTttaarrr…”

* * *

Hannibal's skin burned.

The circle of raised flesh on his back glowed in the darkness.

“Does it hurt?”

“Only when I breath.”

“Let me breath for the both of us then.” Careful fingers reached forward to touch the brand. Hannibal felt the pain ebb away.

“You are very good at that.”

“I know,” came the response, no feigned modesty reflected in his tone.

Hannibal closed his eyes as soft lips came into contact with his back, tracing the ridges of the mark ever so gently.

“Why are you helping me?”

The movement paused. “Because we are inevitable.”

Hannibal could not deny the sense of truth he felt on hearing the words.

He attempted to turn, to bring the owner of soothing hands and seductive voice into view. “May I see you?”

A firm hand caressed his shoulder and halted the movement.“Not yet. In time.” The unseen resumed his gentle caress, lulling him back to his dreamless state, while in his bed, Hannibal Lecter dreamed of the destiny that silently awaited its moment to be revealed.

In time.


	11. A Culinary Apology

It is but a rare thing in this life that another human gets the better of Hannibal Lecter. Actually the word ‘rare’ is inaccurate. ‘Never’ might be more appropriate. And yet, somehow, Will Graham had demonstrated a level of cunning that Hannibal could not help but admire. Grudgingly. Perhaps he ought to get to know the man better. He would likely prove a better friend than an enemy, or at least an enemy that should be kept closer…

“Rude, Hannibal. Shockingly rude!”

Currently, Hannibal was standing in the office of Principal Katz facing down her rather adorable scrutiny. Beverly knew he was an incredibly gifted academic but for some reason unknown to her and her colleagues, Hannibal chose to keep his career low key and more hobby-esque. He would be an incredible counsellor, but as he was _not_ the school’s counsellor, to take a singular interest in the psychological wellbeing of a particular student, particularly a student whose parents were two of the main benefactors and investors in the school was a level of inappropriateness that simply could not be tolerated.

“I must insist that you apologise to Dr Graham for the indiscretion you have displayed against his position at this school.” Her tone was calm but low, level and broached no argument.

Hannibal knew he had allowed the appearance of this new teacher on his horizon to test his limits. Truth be told, he had wanted the school to _offer_ him the position, so he could in effect, set his own standards, shape his own rules, define his own design. In discrediting so many other prior holders of and applicants for the post, he had his goal well and truly within his sights. Until meeting Will Graham, he hadn’t realised how much he truly wanted the position he had thus far denied himself. Now, securing said position seemed as far removed from Hannibal’s reality as discovering water on Mercury. Hannibal remained calm and stoic. Will Graham sat in the chair next to him, silently observing the exchange. Waiting.

Yes, Hannibal must accept defeat in this round of the battle, convincingly contrite.

“I must admit it was a moment of weakness, Beverly,” Hannibal said, with the barest tilt of his head.

He didn’t meet Will’s gaze as he half turned towards him. “And to you, Dr Graham, I can only apologise if it appeared I was taking liberties. I acted on impulse in the best interests of Mr Verger and not the reputation of the school.”

Will, for his part, was doing a rather good job at suppressing a smile. Possibly the most well-crafted non-apology to which he had ever been subjected.

“Think nothing of it, Professor Lecter,” Will said, standing and extending his hand. “I am only glad we could resolve the situation as soon we did so as not to confuse the boy any more than he already is.”

Hannibal’s eyes darkened slightly at the comment, but he offered no response.

Beverly closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed heavily. “Thank you, Hannibal. Please. I don’t want to keep you from your next class.”

Hannibal nodded and resisted a cursory glance to Dr Graham before exciting her office. As he rounded the corner at a purposeful stride, he collided with…. Michael Verger.

The boy stepped back an apology on his lips dying before he could get it out, as he looked up to see who he had nearly tripped up. Hannibal waited to see what the boy would do.

“I didn’t say anything, Professor, I swear,” he whispered casting his eyes to the ground before looking up at Hannibal again, a pleading expression on his face. “He just looked at me and as soon as we started speaking, he knew, he just—“ Michael paused in mid-sentence and glanced behind Hannibal before retreating.

“So sorry, Professor, for not watching my step. I’m— I’m late for class,” he stuttered as he backed away.

Hannibal didn’t need to turn around to feel the presence of the man. Will walked up close behind him, the silence in his movement was deafening to Hannibal. So much so, he thought he could hear the steady beat of the other man’s heart.

He whispered as he brushed past him. “Most people, especially children, don’t have to say much. I just… see.”

Hannibal made a choice. His instinct had never let him down, but it had this time. He was determined to find out why. What was so unique about Will Graham that confounded him?

“Dr Graham,” he said, to the back of the retreating man, choosing to ignore the whispered comment. For the time being. Not every question needed to be answered within the moment into which it was breathed life. Hannibal cleared his throat in a show of nervous hesitance. Whether or not he was fooling the man he didn’t know, as when Will Graham’s turned to face him, his own was a picture of well-trained impassivity.

“I feel as though I have done you a great professional injustice and for my own sense of quiet I feel it must be immediately addressed…”

Will raised his hand but Hannibal mirrored the gesture. “Please. I would consider it a great favour if you permit me to cook you dinner, by means of an apology for my error in judgement.”

Will wasn’t sure what outcome he had expected from their first clash, but this reaction and the subsequent offer of dinner was not it.

_Your move, Dr Graham._

Will barely paused before he smiled. “I suppose it would be rude to decline such a gracious apology.”


	12. A Little Nudge

“So, a dinner invitation? How… original…,” said Will with a roll of his eyes and a flare of his aura as he recalled the many times he had been duped into sharing the fruits of Hannibal’s kill at his table.

“To my recollection, we established a successful and altogether fulfilling relationship, as well as enjoying much intellectual discourse over quite a few shared meals,” replied Hannibal, momentarily focussing his attention on Will and the warmth that accompanied the projection of his emotional ebb and flow, before returning it to admire in equal appreciation, the magnificence of the Omega Nebula. Experiencing the Universe at this level of intimacy Hannibal would never bore of, in any incarnation. It was simply unfortunate that in so many incarnations, he found himself residing amongst minds much less enlightened than his own.

Hannibal turned his thoughts back to Will. He was tempted to probe his mind, just to see how he was coping with the adjustment, but knew that an invitation would be required or he’d simply retreat further away. As always.

“Do we always seek each other out?” Will asked. “Is there no other path for us other than towards each other?”

“Always. And we always find each other. We are simply…”

“Inevitable.”

“Indeed.”

Will sighed. “I get the distinct impression in the infinite variations of timelines we traverse, Hannibal, you always get the better of me and this timeline will be no different. Even, when I’m allegedly the cunning one!”

“The eternal struggle, Will. Is it not beautiful in its pure ambiguity?”

“For my own preference I much rather a clear delineation between light and dark, black and white…”

“You and I?” asked Hannibal.

Will kept his thought on that particular subject to himself.

“Yet the soup of the matter is so much more fulfilling,” Hannibal continued simply, giving form to his wings so as to bask in the feel of the elements pouring from the Nebula between the feathers, allowing the separation to melt into oneness, shifting the form of his wings between colours that didn’t exist on the Human visual spectrum, but did exist, somewhere in the known and unknown Universe. His mind closed for the briefest of moments while he focussed on the sensations. When he opened himself again, he found a Demon staring at him, captivated. Will’s gaze quickly tore away. Mmmm, thought Hannibal. Perhaps a little nudge was in order…

* * *

_Here is my card with my personal phone number. Please call me when you decide a date for our dinner. I merely require 24 hours notice._

Will smiled as he pushed the card back into his shirt pocket, before climbing into his car to make the journey home. He hadn’t failed to notice Professor Lecter on the day they had met at his interview, nor since. He permeated the space around him, as though he could take the fabric of any situation and weave a tapestry that suited his own design. To say Will found him intriguing was an understatement. He had been wondering how to get to know him better, how to approach him on a more personal level but, aside from the fact that they taught wildly different disciplines, his empathic senses had continually made it very clear to him that he was not interested, or at least, resistant. The dinner invitation was an unexpected, but wholly welcome turn of events that he couldn’t have hoped to orchestrate through any amount of intricate planning. The world works in mysterious ways, he thought, with a playful smile on his lips. Will then turned his thoughts to the boy who had inadvertently brought them within striking distance of each other.

Michael Verger.

An intriguing mind as well, truth be told. Will had read his file and found his history, both genetic and phenotypic, to be the perfect ground on which to seed a mind that could blossom into greatness. A design that, while Will could not foresee its longterm outcome, would shine like the beacon in the night it was meant to be, guiding those with no direction of their own to their Fate.

It was on that satisfying thought that Will felt the collision of another vehicle as it rammed into the side of his own. A split second passed before his world went black.

* * *

“Are you next of kin?”

“No,” said Hannibal. “And I am at a loss as to understand why the hospital called me given that I am not.”

The nurse gave a small, I-wish-I-could-help shrug before another female voice made herself known behind him.

"Professor Hannibal Lecter?”

Hannibal turned to be greeted by one of the resident doctors. He tilted his head in question.

“I am sorry that we were forced to call you but we only had a driver’s licence as identification for Dr Graham and there was no indication of a next of kin contact on his person, but we did find your business card in his shirt pocket. Are you friends?”

Hannibal briefly considered the question. “We are newly acquainted.” He trained a look of concern on his face. “Is he alright?”

She turned to walk down the corridor, gesturing Hannibal to follow which he duly did. “His injuries are extensive but he will survive. We’ve induced a short term coma to speed up the healing process,” she said with trained professionalism as she opened the door to a private room. 

Life. It is such a fragile thing, thought Hannibal.


	13. Back to School

**Two months later**

“Welcome back, Dr Graham.”

Will smiled and ducked his head in acknowledgment to Principal Katz as he hobbled into the staff room. He had been in his position barely a month before the accident that forced an extended hospital incarceration. He awoke five weeks later and had to suffer three more agonising weeks of confinement to bed until they finally set him free. The books that mysteriously manifested at his bedside kept him sane though, one magically appearing each week. He had asked the nurses the identity of the stealthy librarian but out of his various visitors, they couldn’t tell him with certainty. It was surely a colleague as the titles were from his own collection, some still inhabiting the boxes that remained unpacked in his office at the school. He had declined most visitors, who, being new to the area were naturally his colleagues. For some reason, he felt compelled to permit Hannibal Lecter permission, perhaps because the man had been there when he first returned to consciousness.

_“My dogs…”Will rasped, mouth dry from lack of saliva, voice hoarse from lack of use. He was vaguely aware of the hand that had come to rest on shoulder only seconds later, as though to prevent him making any unnecessary movements._

_“Your animals are fine, Dr Graham. Please, rest…”_

And Will Graham had slept long and deep. And Will Graham had dreamed.

_He had dreamed of death. His own, over and over again. A chest cavity filled with beautiful flowers; a head full of honey; an angel with wings made flesh. And at the heart of it all one man whose face he could not clearly see but knew. He just knew._

“Still looking a little peaky there, Dr Graham. Are you quite sure you are fit to return to your full duties?” enquired Frederick.

“I’ve been cooped up long enough, Mr Chilton,” Will replied politely but curtly. He reached for the coffee pot. “I’m sure my substitute will be very keen to return to whatever school from where they’ve been borrowed…”

“Oh didn’t you know?” said Frederick, trailing after him to pour himself a cup as well, relishing being in the loop and playing informant. “There was no one available at such short notice so one of our own… was forced to step in and take your sessions.”

Will paused in mid-sip, locking frowning eyes on Frederick. “Who amongst the staff could possibly be qualified…?”

“Ah, Hannibal!” said Frederick cheerily, glancing over Will’s shoulder at the approaching man. “I was just telling our prodigal doctor here about your masterful management of his sessions in his absence.”

Will turned to meet a deep maroon gaze. “Welcome back, Dr Graham.”

“Professor Lecter? You?”

Hannibal clasped his hands behind his back and raised his eyebrows. “So surprised that I possess listening skills?”

Will placed his cup down carefully before leaning his weight on the table behind him. “I take umbrage at the suggestion that there is little more to what I do than listening…”

“Well, rest assured, Dr Graham,” he said while pouring himself some coffee. “All I did was calmly listen. I am not here to fix minds. That burdensome task,” he said, raising his cups to his lips and locking eyes with Will, “remains yours.”

Frederick turned away from the conversation with a slight pout on his lips, looking mildly disappointed.

Will held Hannibal’s gaze and gave a knowing smile. “Is that man always such an insatiable gossip?”

“Picked up on that did you,” Hannibal said almost under his breath. Will could detect the slight amusement in his tone.

“He’s about as subtle as blood splatter in a slasher movie,” Will replied.

They looked at each other for a brief moment. There was a familiarity in the banter that surprised Will, as though they’d known each other for a lot longer than the mere weeks they had been acquainted. It made his load feel lighter, the burdens on his mind momentarily lifted.

There was a few beats of comfortable silence before Will spoke again. He cleared his throat and looked at the liquid surface of his coffee cup. “Principal Katz told me you looked after my dogs while I was in the hospital. I’m curious. Why?”

Hannibal saw no reason to be dishonest. “A curiosity of the human condition and its nature is something we share, Dr Graham. I recognised that fact shortly after we met.” He tilted his head as he looked at Will.“My reason was simple. I was curious to know you better.”

“As good a reason as any I suppose.”

Will steeled himself to table an offer. A gesture of extending the acquaintance to perhaps something more. “I feel as though maybe I owe _you_ dinner, Professor Lecter.”

Hannibal gave him a mock serious look. “I am very particular about what I put into my body, Dr Graham, so it is likely more prudent that I cook for us both first and should you feel up to matching my culinary skills, you can return the favour.”

Will deadpanned in return. “And what if I should surpass them?”

Hannibal nodded. “Then I will gladly hang up my skillet and gloves.”

“Confident aren’t we?”

Hannibal smiled in response. _‘You have no idea, Dr Graham,’_ he thought to himself.

“We have much to discuss. Not least, the understandings gleaned in your absence of some of the more interesting students under your care.”

“Michael Verger, for example?”

“Michael Verger,” Hannibal replied. “I recorded all our sessions.”

Will was impressed with the foresight and consideration.

“I thought you might benefit from the insights our discussions,” provided Hannibal by means of an explanation.

“Thank you, Professor.” Courteous, thought Hannibal. There may be hope for us yet.


	14. Getting To Know You

Hannibal was pouring himself a glass of wine when the doorbell rang. 

“Dr Graham. Right on time. Please,” he said, stepping back. “Do come in.”

Hannibal gave him an appraising once over as he took his coat. Will sensed the look. “I wasn’t sure what the dress code was…”

A dark, thigh-length jacket, sweater, light blue shirt and dark corduroys. “Smart casual,” said Hannibal, “is more than suitable for a dinner between colleagues,” relieving him of the bottle of wine given him by Will and taking the lead towards his kitchen.

Will stalled for a beat and took in the sight and smell of his surroundings when he entered Hannibal’s inner sanctum. He cleared his throat. “It appears the confidence you inferred towards regarding your abilities with a skillet and gloves may not have been misplaced. Unless this is all for show…,” Hannibal smiled as he handed him a glass of his own and poured from the decanter, “I fear my palate may be about to undergo a singular re-education.”

“Fear, Dr Graham? You have little to fear. It is not as though I am going to kill, cook and eat you.”

“Good thing too,” retorted Will with an amused snort. “I’d imagine I’m not very tasty. Too lean,” as he took a sip of the liquid. Hannibal watched his features slip into a mild contortion of unexpected pleasure. “Delicious,” whispered Will, swirling the contents absently.

“Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes,” said Hannibal as he strolled past Will. “I suggest we take our wine to the study and we can begin bringing you up to speed on what you have missed during your recovery.”

Hannibal continued to speak as they exited the kitchen. “I regret we cannot do this at the school, but our schedules are so full and our free time never overlaps…”

“No need to explain, Professor,” Will replied. “I appreciate your indulging me during your own personal time.”

“Not at all. After all, our appreciation and care of these exceptional young minds is our duty, and true duty, is something from which one never takes rest or respite if one is truly devoted to one's vocation.”

Will smiled and nodded, only to find himself almost tripping over his feet again on entering the heart of Hannibal’s home.

Hannibal positioned himself in a low seat and indicated to the one opposite for Will who duly deposited himself into its leathery warmth.

Hannibal picked up the portable recorder, his finger hovering over “play.”

“Shall we begin?”

* * *

“I’ve discovered something, Professor.”

Michael walked the length of the small office space while running chubby fingers along the wall bookcase in Hannibal’s office admiring the titles, some he was unfamiliar with, which given the size of the library in his own home was saying something.

“You will have to be more specific, Mr Verger.”

He stopped at a table in the corner, glancing down to admire some of the Professor’s charcoal sketches. His eyes were immediately drawn to the image of a naked man, all manner of implements protruding from various parts of his body. He felt something in the pit of his stomach flutter at the sight of the picture. It was confusing…

“Mr Verger? Care to elaborate?”

“Hmmmm? Oh. Of course. Apologies, Sir,” tearing his eyes away from the image to meet the enquiring gaze. He retreated from the table and sat in the chair opposite Hannibal.

“I am here to listen, in confidence, to anything you have to say, Mr Verger. The only person with whom our conversation will be shared is your future counsellor.”

Michael frowned. “Is Dr Graham OK? I heard the crash was pretty bad.”

Hannibal smiled. “By all accounts, Dr Graham is a survivor. He will live to fight another day and hopefully, will soon be returning to offer his guidance to those who need it at this school.”

Michael relaxed back into his seat. Hannibal sat forward briefly to repeat his query.

The boy dropped his gaze to the floor, feet not quite touching the floor dangling in an innocent and endearingly childish way over the edge of the seat. The dark look on his features, however, are in direct contrast to his innocent, awkward posture.

“Michael.”

Hannibal sat back again to give the boy some semblance of space that he perhaps did not realise he needed.

“I am not here to judge. Merely to listen.”

Michael nodded, somewhat meekly, in acknowledgment of the courtesy.

He took a shaky breath. “I’ve discovered something about… about who I am.”

Hannibal did not interject. He may head the art department but that did not hamper his ability to understand the human mind. The peer-reviewed papers he had written and published in his spare time had been a pleasant surprise to Katz but had convinced her he qualified as a temporary fill-in for Will Graham. Art as a medium of expression told him a lot about the machinations of young minds. In this instance, he was certainly at an advantage with Michael Verger. He had an inherent darkness that was subconsciously expressed in the work he submitted for his assignments. He would make quite the interesting subject of a paper himself. A dark prodigy was always a worthy subject for further study and observation.

“For about a year now, I’ve been curious about my father. My Moms seem to think I’m too young to know so I stopped asking and decided to find out for myself.”

Still so young, yet already such a clever, cunning boy, thought Hannibal. “And?” he asked. “Would you care to share what you have discovered?”

Michael, in the presence of such open and willing support felt the tears at the corner of his eyes. He stood abruptly, clenching his fists and forced the words out.

Hannibal watched in mild fascination as the boy’s normally calm composure began to fray around the edges. Michael clenched his eyes shut. “All the other kids here are right. I’m— I’m a FREAK!”


	15. An Appetising Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had wine last night. While I wrote this chapter. Ahem. Got a bit carried away. So herein, I've amended the sequence of events to include an appetiser.

“He is, by a long stretch, one of the most fascinating minds at the school,” Will said earnestly, as they left the study to return to the kitchen.

“You should get to know Frederick better, Dr Graham.” Hannibal said without a trace of humour in his voice. “His is a veritable cesspool of psychoses.”

“I am quite tempted to write a paper on him,” Hannibal continued, as he opened his fridge door, “but that would be rude.” He extracted the starters and began putting the finishing touches on them. “So I shall hope my life will surpass his own and wait for a posthumous opportunity to come along.” Will chuckled at that, though he couldn’t quite tell whether Hannibal meant it as a joke. Or not.

“Bring the bottle please?” requested Hannibal, as he took their plates and guided them both into the dining room. Will sat in front of the delectable looking plate. “What are we eating?” he enquired, unfolding his napkin.

“Squid.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever indulged.”

“It is an interesting mollusc,” said Hannibal, taking his seat and swirling his wine before bringing the glass to his lips. “Highly intelligent, three hearts and a strong penchant for invisibility amongst its more interesting attributes.”

“And yet, we are eating it. Do you always treat those you admire to a place at - or on - your table, Professor Lecter?”

Hannibal smiled as he speared the flesh and met Will’s gaze, his eyes drawing Will towards him like a fish to a sparkling lure. “If I consider it worthy enough of said place, Dr Graham.”

* * *

“Will.” The question, Hannibal considers, is not for Will but for himself. He is far enough removed from his own being to ask it and get an honest answer from his demon counterpart.

“When did you realise you were different?”

Will was basking in the darkness of a celestial body so far removed from the sun, warmth was an illusion. This kind of galactic geography he could understand. Pluto didn’t know what it was. Nor, did its human observers. Will felt a certain affinity with this jagged, unrefined planet/asteroid/dust cloud…/what?

“Different?” he paused in his Pluto-self-basking. “Different in what sense?”

Hannibal didn’t enjoy the company of the Sol’s planets so much. They depended on revolution. Hannibal, within his own concept of the word, IS revolution.

“How many humans are born with pure empathy?”

“Everyone is born with Human empathy, Hannibal.”

_Almost clever boy._

“No, Will. Everyone is born for the _capacity_ for empathy. Few come equipped with the capacity to express that empathy.”

Will fixed his eyes on Hannibal as best he could. Echoes of his human life pulsed through his mind. He knew it wasn’t real but the sense of a lack of oxygen hit him nonetheless. Such memories of his former mortal life would impact his non-corporeal being for some time yet. “Am I drunk?” Will slurred. “I feel a little… out of control…”

* * *

Dinner was done. The evening was going well. Too well perhaps. Will had never felt so relaxed in the presence of another, so accustomed to being on guard around other human beings. But Will had allowed himself to become slightly intoxicated. He was lightheaded and, truth be told, slightly more enamoured than he had previously considered himself capable of being.

Hannibal took a seat beside Will on the couch. He was speaking but Will was focussed on the sound and not the words. He couldn’t believe how emboldened he was feeling the entire evening, their discussions about Michael Verger had revealed as much about each other as they had about the boy.

Will’s head swam. Intoxicated, he should know better, but knowing better wasn’t particularly high on his agenda in that moment. He hesitated for the merest breath before leaning towards Hannibal just as Hannibal chose to turn his face away towards the sound of his phone ringing, while in that movement, Will’s lips landed clumsily on the corner of his mouth. He quickly drew back, flush with embarrassment.

Hannibal turned, an eyebrow raised in curiosity and surprise.

“I’m so— so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“ Will attempted to stand, in an embarrassed effort to create distance between himself and Hannibal.

In response, Hannibal didn’t hesitate as he slid his body backwards across the couch and snagged Will firmly by his wrist.

“I think you did…”

He yanked Will towards him across his lap, grabbing the forearm of his other arm to pin his back against the arm of the couch.

“…mean to, Dr Graham,” he finished in that breath. Still seated, he positioned himself sideways between Will’s legs. He placed one hand on the outside of Will’s thigh. Will’s flush deepened at the move.

“Care to try that again?” Hannibal asked quietly, his voice low, teasing in its insinuation.

Now that he was in such a position of open vulnerability, Will wasn’t sure what he wanted.

“I can sense the devil inside you, Dr Graham.” Hannibal tilted his head, leaning closer. “He needs to stretch his wings I think. Why don’t you let him out to play?” Allowing his hand to slide up Will’s thigh and run his thumb over his, hmmm, unfortunately corduroy concealed hipbone, thought Hannibal, his gaze halted on his momentarily stilled hand.

Will was… was… whatever confusion was. The evening’s revelations had left him wanting nothing less than to sink his teeth and his mind into every part of every conversation he would ever have with Hannibal Lecter.

He had rarely been attracted to anyone. Sex was for the wanton. Normally, Will just wanted to be left alone, but Hannibal… Hannibal was not normal. Hannibal was… interesting.

Hannibal reminded him what it meant to feel wanton. In a good way.

Will raised himself, clenching muscles he didn’t know he had to bring himself closer to the man who had engineered this most engaging of evenings, he who was most…

_DING DONG!_

The sound of the front doorbell shook Will from his reverie.


	16. Out of Session, In Session

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of fun thrown into the mix, courtesy of Jimmy and Brian.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HANNIBAL!”

A rather drunk Head of the Science Department, Jimmy Price and his lab assistant, Brian Zeller were standing swaying slightly on Hannibal’s doorstep, brandishing a bottle of champagne like it was a weapon.

“Good evening, gentlemen. And while I appreciate the sentiment and the thought behind it, it is not actually my birthday, Dr Price.”

Jimmy frowned and blinked, trying to focus on the man in front of him. “It isn’t?”

Brian dropped his shoulders, rolled his eyes and let his head fall back. “I told you, Jimmy. But would you listen? No. You ALWAYS know best…”

“Well, we’re here now…” Jimmy made to step forward as Hannibal raised his hand and placed it on his chest. “Normally, I would invite you in, but I’m entertaining a guest already.” It was in that moment Will stepped around the corner into the hallway, straightening his glasses and running his fingers through his curls.

“Oh,” said Brian, a Cheshire cat-styled grin plastered across his face. “So you are.”

Jimmy took a few seconds to catch up, his alcohol-addled perception staggering into focus.

“We should go, Jimmy,” Brian said, wrapping an arm around the man’s shoulder to prop him up. He cast a final glance over his shoulder at the pair before leading them off the front doorstep. “Maybe your birthday will come early this year, Professor.”

Hannibal didn’t miss the insinuation in his voice, nor did he acknowledge it. “See you on Monday, Mr Zeller. Drink plenty of water before you retire tonight, Mr Price,” said Hannibal, Jimmy nodding mutely and waving a hand as they walked away. Hannibal shook his head as he closed the door and turned towards Will.

“I should go too,” whispered Will, the blush on his cheek still evident as he stepped past Hannibal and reached for his jacket.

Hannibal decided not to push. Will had made the first move, Hannibal had responded. The next move was his. “Of course.”

Will couldn’t meet his searching gaze so opted to busy himself with straightening his jacket. He took a breath, grateful for the space Hannibal was affording him. “I wo— would still value your input and insights.” He glanced up over the rim of his glasses. “If you would be amenable to the suggestion, Professor.”

Hannibal permitted himself a gentle smile and a warm look radiate from his eyes. “It would be a pleasure,” he said, reaching for the door handle. “Your turn to cook I believe.”

Will cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself.”

Hannibal considered. “A compromise then,” he said, as he opened the door. “I’ll bring the ingredients to your home and we’ll cook together.”

Will felt the blush threaten to heat his cheeks again. “We could do that,” he said stepping past Hannibal and over the threshold, careful not to make contact. “You’ve already met my extended family so that’s something.”

“And we got on famously. They seemed to appreciate my homemade sausages.” Will looked at him in surprise. “You made them sausages?”

“As I said, Dr Graham, I am very careful about what I put into my body. I extend that courtesy to others of all walks of life. It would be rude not to do so.”

Will nodded, rendered somewhat speechless by the series of revelations to which he had been exposed over the course of the evening. Not least his burgeoning attraction to the man.

“See you on Monday, Professor,” said Will, with a nod and turn to descend the steps. He paused when Hannibal spoke again.

“I think, in our own time, and particularly after this evening, we can progress to first names, don’t you?”

Will smiled shyly. “Agreed. Goodnight, Hannibal.”

“Drive safely, Will.”

* * *

“I think I feel sadder when I see animals die, than when I see people die.”

Michael sat opposite Will in a comfortable seat in his office, halfway through his session. Will’s understanding, gained through Hannibal, had allowed him to quickly empathise with, understand the boy and gain his trust. His body posture told Will all he needed to know about how safe the child felt in his presence. Keen to open up, to be understood by someone who might be able to guide the confusion in his mind.

“Have you ever seen a person die?”

Michael shrugged. “Only in movies.” He hesitated. “I had to watch my dog die a few years ago. It felt as though my heart stopped the same time at his.”

Will interlaced his fingers and placed his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, sharing his empathy with the boy.

“Well, watching people die in movies isn’t the same as watching someone you love die.”

Michael looked at Will as he spoke. His next words sent a shiver down his spine, particularly because Will sensed them to be nothing but the truth.

“I imagine watching some of the other pupils die. I think how it would be to see them bleed as the life left their eyes.” His gaze softens. “There are some others in this school I wouldn’t miss. And I don’t think the rest of the world would miss them either. Well, except maybe their mothers. But mothers have no choice but to love their child, even if a monster lives in their soul.”

Will calmly absorbed the words. “Do you know why you feel like that, Mr Verger?”

“People aren’t nice. Animals are nice though. Animals don’t lie. They love unconditionally. People bargain, swindle, demand.”

 _Well, I can’t disagree with that logic_ , thought Will to himself. But then, that’s why he did what he did. Helping young minds, shaping them for the future. Tiny moves in a cosmic game that might - just might - make the world a bit more bearable.

“Sometimes, I see the way Mommy Margot looks at me. Like she’s seeing a ghost? I wondered why. I told Professor Lecter about what I’d found out. Just— just so I could share with someone. About—” He bit his lip and closed his eyes as though the words weighed heavy in his mouth. “Where I came from. About… My Uncle Mason…”

“But you didn’t want to share these revelations with your mothers?” Will asked softly.

He shook his head vehemently. “No. No. At least not yet. Not until I figure this out for myself.”

Will leaned back. “And that’s what I’m here for, Mr Verger. I hope you know you can trust me.”

He smiled. “I like you, Dr Graham. I trust you. And I trust Professor Lecter.” He rubbed the back of his neck shyly. “I can’t explain. I feel— as though you both understand me.”

“It’s what I do.” _And something Hannibal seems to possess a disconcerting flare for himself,_ he thought privately. “Understand and hopefully help you understand yourself better too.” He stood and walked over to a bookshelf and grabbed the title he had in mind.

He walked over to Michael and handed him the book. “A loan.” He took his seat again, noting their time was nearly up. “Read it and we’ll chat about it in our next session. “Some might consider you a little young for the material, but somehow I think you will have no problem grasping the content and the message within.”

Michael looked at the well-worn paperback in his hand.

_The Catcher in the Rye._

“Best get to your next class, Mr Verger. I wouldn’t want to be accused of causing you to be tardy,” Will said, as he closed his notebook.

He nodded. “Thanks, Dr Graham,” he said as he opened the door and departed. He smiled to himself again as he wandered to his next class, clutching the book to his chest. Michael Verger felt good about himself for the first time in days.


	17. Philosophers and Kings

From the moment Alexander saw the boy, he was enchanted. Despite being completely absorbed in the learned man that stood before him, Aristotle, as he imparted words of infinite wisdom to him and his companions, the allure of the youth who strolled nearby drew his attention away from the master philosopher. Alexander was overwhelmed with the desire to follow him, to not lose sight of him lest he lose him completely, so he beckoned another boy paddling in the fountain nearby to him and quietly slipped a silver coin into his hand, telling him to follow the young stranger and come back and tell him where he lived.

* * *

Hephaestion stretched long and ran the palm of his hands over bright blue, sleep-dusted eyes, following through the move with fingers through pillow-messed curls. His yawn was deep and satisfied. He felt rested, reprieved from the stifling afternoon heat. But now, he must return to his studies. As he became aware of his surroundings, he sensed he was not alone. He sat up in his cot. “Who’s there?”

A low, rumbling voice cut through the shadows in the far corner of his room. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

Hephaestion stood, body tensing, on guard.

“Rest assured, I mean you no harm. Quite the opposite in fact.”

“Then reveal yourself,” the boy said, wariness still coiled in every major muscle.

Alexander moved slowly but assuredly from the darkness. Hephaestion tried to remain composed at the sight of the man but found himself take an involuntary step back, calves bumping against the edge of the cot, reminding himself of the precariousness of his position. Tall and slender, he hid a latent strength that would not be obvious at first glance but Hephaestion saw behind any living beings veil. Dark eyes, sandy hair and high cheekbones dominated his features. He had never seen such a man, utterly unique amongst the soft, smooth lines typical of the people he had known his brief life. Words failed him. He seemed to absorb the shadows around him, giving a sense of light emanating from his body. 

“What is your name?” he asked gently.

Hephaestion straightened his shoulders and stepped forward, not wishing to show any fear or weakness. “I am Hephaestion.”

“Interesting name. It means volcano, correct?”

The boy was impressed. The man was obviously educated.

“And you?”

“I am Alexander. It is a pleasure to meet you, Hephaestion,” he said with a small bow but never taking his eyes from him.

“And yours means protector of men.” Despite his isolation in his personal quarters with this stranger of foreign origin, Hephaestion did not feel threatened. “You are not from this region.”

“I am Macedonian.”

“A place with which I am unfamiliar.”

“You are young yet, Hephaestion. I imagine you will do great things with your life.”

“You have known me less than the turn of a screw, Alexander. How could you possibly know my destiny and what my future holds in store?”

Alexander smiled. He decided he very much liked the sound of his name from the boy’s lips. He stepped up to him, holding his gaze steady, impressed with the boy’s bravery.

“Because I foresee you and I sharing that future together.”

Hephaestion did not flinch as Alexander raised a hand to stroke his cheek. “Now that I see you up close and feel your nearness, I am fairly certain that I cannot be without it.” He continued his caress. “What say you? Would you like to experience the wonders of the world by my side, Hephaestion?”

“Why would you profess such a desire?”

He dropped his hand. “Perhaps I see an Alexander in you too, and it would foolish of me to ignore what my instincts are telling me when they have stood me in such good stead in the past and will continue to do so in future. I see no reason to deny them in the present.”

Hephaestion was enamoured. There was no denying the feeling blossoming in his chest as he absorbed Alexander’s words. He felt the power of his words wrap around his heart and his mind, his empathy in tune with the needs, desires and will of the Macedonian. He could sense the greatness within him, teetering on the edge, so close to bursting into full glory.

Before he could stop himself, Hephaestion felt himself drop to one knee and bow his head. “I would see myself by your side, Alexander. Let me be your protector, as you would protect all others.”

Alexander rarely found his breath taken away by another, but he found that being the case now and he wanted to keep that feeling and experience it over and over again. He placed his hand beneath the boy’s chin and gently tilted his head back so they could look at each other.

“You will be the fire in my belly that will give me the strength to conquer and unite, and the molten heat that will warm my heart if ever I should lose my way, Hephaestion.”

“Always…”

* * *

Will opened his eyes to look at Hannibal. “I can’t— can’t— “ His atoms were flaring uncontrollably, until Hannibal wrapped him up in his wings and a sense of calm descended once again.

“All these lives you’ve shared with me, the times we’ve crossed paths over and over… It’s too much.”

“No, Will. It’s enough. This, is enough.”


	18. Quietly Abel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How to bring Abel Gideon and Matthew Brown into my AU mix? Here's how.

Matthew Brown was a quiet soul. Like all people who were good at their designations in life, you wouldn't notice him until he made you notice him, until he chose to be noticed by you. He blended into his surroundings with a serene calm. But then, it's always the quiet ones that bear watching.

* * *

 "And what have you learned about our Little Boy Blue today, Matthew?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, Abel," replied Matthew quietly.

Abel huffed a sigh of impatience. "That spawn of Verger IS out of the ordinary, Matthew." He poured the coffee. "I pay you - handsomely I might add - in the pursuit of knowledge of the boy. With which to furnish ME. I doubt that ridiculous stipend you receive for your janitorial contributions to the school could keep you in the manner to which you have become accustomed." He leaned forward towards him. "Ergo, should you wish to remain in that manner, I expect to be rewarded in kind."

Matthew mused for a moment. He considered lying. Telling a few embellishments to appease the man. But he knew in the long run that wouldn't pay off. Abel had made sure of that by telling him the tale of Mason Verger and the cost of his indiscretions with his former wife. Now missing wife. Missing presumed dead wife. Despite the lawsuit and said missing wife, Abel had relocated and rebuilt his practice under a different identity in three short years. Deterrents and persuasions came easily to Abel Gideon. Matthew Brown was one to err on the side of caution. Especially armed with his knowledge of the criminally insane from his former position. His understanding of the cruel, the gifted and the unusual aberrations of this world had in fact secured his position at the school. He could be rather persuasive himself. At the same time, he was intelligent enough to recognise the apex of persuasion personified sitting across from him now, eyebrows raised, awaiting a report on this week's events.

"Well, Professor Lecter seems to have taken the boy under his wing."

"Ah yes. Lecter. You mentioned him before. Sounds like an interesting fellow," he tilted his cup towards his lips to savoured the aroma of the coffee. "Any particular reason the young whippersnapper has registered on the good Professor's radar?"

"He is an exceptional artist," said Matthew with deliberate slowness. "I saw one of his paintings when I was taking care of the art room. And despite how little I know on the subject of art, even I could tell it was unusual subject matter for a seven-year-old."

"Oh? Do tell..."

"Something called The Wound Man? But with flowers instead of tools and weapons protruding from the body?" Abel nearly choked on his coffee. Matthew frowned. "Are you alright, Abel?"

"Fine, fine, yes." The revelation was disturbing to say the least. The Wound Man was in fact the manner in which he had killed his wife before disposing her body, the poetic justice of how she had - metaphorically speaking - pierced his own self,  over and over again, seemed a fitting end in answer to her betrayal. He had planned on dealing with Mason in a similar fashion. Alas, the thrill of that particular kill was not meant to be. That, however, didn't mean to say the re-enactment of the creation couldn't be achieved with the blood of another Verger. Though two would be better, as a fleeting image of the lovely Margot flitted across his mind.

And for all his understanding of certain minds, Matthew couldn't still the shiver the sight of a smiling Abel Gideon sent through his body. He was not a man you wanted wanting you. Alive or dead.

* * *

Michael Verger spent the rest of the school year blooming under the attentions of Professor Lecter and Dr Graham. And for the rest of the school year, Matthew observed, quiet, still, unnoticed.

Margot picked him up on his last day of term. The car with their bodyguard trailed a few yards behind the SUV. "So honey. Your eighth birthday is coming up soon. Any ideas on what you'd like to do?" 

There was something he wanted and had been planning for some time on how he was going to get it. His mothers were protective to the extreme. He was tired of being coddled, but Dr Graham had told him that the best way to get a person to agree with a suggestion that you think they might be resistant to, was to make them think it was their own idea. Dr Graham was a clever guy and Michael made a point of listening to the advice of clever people.

So that was exactly what Michael planned to do. "I'd like to host a dinner. For two of my favourite teachers," he said confidently. Margot raised an eyebrow. "Really." He looked her in the eye. "Yes. Really."

"And you're sure perhaps it wouldn't be more appropriate to have a party with friends your own age?" 

"Age has little to do with intelligence, Mommy M." Damn, thought Margot. Sometimes he opens his mouth and it's like hearing Mason in my mind, haunting me.

As though he knows what she is thinking, Michael continues. ”I know you and Mommy Ally are very good to me, the best moms a kid could want, and I love you both every day for it," Margot braced herself. Usually, a compliment from Mason was swiftly followed by something wholly unwelcome. She didn't however, expect the revelation that he presented to her now. She kept her eyes on the road as she heard him breathe deeply and brace himself. "I can admit now, I’ve felt a little lost. Without a male role model.” He paused allowing the words to sink in before continuing. “Though I wouldn't have wanted anything to do with the father who happened to provide the sperm that made my existence possible," he said coolly.

Margot slammed on the brakes so hard, the bodyguard behind came within a foot of ramming into the back of their vehicle. She was staring at Michael wide-eyed who, with arms folded across his chest, was giving her an appraising look of his own. Young he may be, but he was a quick study and a good student, who attracted great teachers. He planned on making sure those teachers became a very important part of his life.


	19. Lessons

It was Michael Verger’s final session before the end of term.

“Thank you again for the books, Dr Graham. Some of them were very eye-opening, but my favourite character still remains Holden Caulfield.”

“A perfect model of angst-ridden youth. If you are equipped to recognise and understand the condition early, you can take hold of it before it takes hold of you,” said Will.

“Is that what you did?” The boy was curious and fairly fearless when it came to expressing his desire to understand those whom he considered interesting.

“No,” Will stated plainly. “I rode out the storm of adolescence and it rode me right back.”

Will changed the subject.

“Have you given any thought to what you would like to do with your life once you conquer the beast of youth, Michael?”

Michael smiled at Dr Graham and gave a warm chuckle. Will smiled in response. The boy had become so comfortable in his presence and his self-assuredness had slowly built over the course of the year. Will understood he was possibly the closest thing to a father figure the boy had in his life, though he had always been careful to maintain a professional distance and Michael to his credit, had respected the boundaries.

“I think I’ve got some time to decide that, Dr Graham.”

“True. But surely you think about it. It’s important to have dreams about our future, about our place in the world, the impact we’ll make, no matter how young or old we are.”

“In truth, I don’t really care what I do as long as I do it well.”

Will didn’t let him off. “That sounds like something Professor Lecter would say.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” said the boy.

* * *

Will reached over to his recorder and pressed the stop button.

“It’s in no small part thanks to you that he has come so far, Hannibal.”

Will rose from his seat and walked to the centre of Hannibal’s study where the man stood holding two tumblers of whisky. He took one of the glasses from his hand and raised it to welcoming lips.

Hannibal watched him silently.

He allowed the burn of the alcohol to warm his chest before he spoke again, looking at the amber liquid, rather than meet amber eyes. “No small part thanks to you that I came to understand him so well and could be such an effective counsellor.”

Hannibal accepted the praise with a slow blink and a small nod of acknowledgement. For now, he would take what he could get. While he had come to very much enjoy their monthly dinner meetings, he had been disappointed that Will had not wished to pursue a more intimate relationship. But he had made his position clear during their second “date.”

_‘I am sorry,’ Will had said, in shy hesitation. ‘I really don’t know what came over me. I’m not normally so brazen. I just think were it to go sour it would compromise our working relationship and I would do anything to prevent such a scenario.’_

So Hannibal had assented to the request to remain nothing more than friends. Yet, the time they spent in each other’s company felt like home. Hannibal was a patient man. He could wait for the inevitable to happen. Friends For the time being. Because one thing of which he was certain, was that he and Will Graham were inevitable.

“You received Michael’s dinner invite?” Will enquired. “I’m quite looking forward to getting to know his mothers a little better. Might give me even more insight into his frame of mind.”

Hannibal chuckled. “Indeed. He appears to have grown quite attached to you and I. Professionally speaking, of course. I think he has designs on becoming an educator himself.”

“Well, at least he is no longer talking about teaching some of the less refined students a lesson or two,” Will said wryly.

“You allowed him to vent his darkness without passing judgement,” Hannibal stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “Trust was easily established and coupled with your incredible gift of empathy and understanding, you’ve set him on a brighter path.”

Will, for his part, accepted the praise with a clink of their tumblers.

The true nature of men, however, would soon teach them both a hard lesson of its own. A lesson in which they would share the despair of witnessing all their hard work wash away in the tears of a young boy who would learn the meaning of that true nature, and the realisation that it was something that could only be conquered by the expression of his own.

* * *

“Ah, Matthew. You continue to make me as proud as any father would be of his own son…” Abel smiled at the man with an accompanying look of mock admiration. His careful stalking of the boy had yielded some interesting nuggets of information but the pièce de résistance had been the cloned phone, containing a wealth of personal information including his home address and Alana and Margot’s regular schedules.

He put his arm around Matthew’s shoulder as they exited one of the coffee shops not far from the school where the occasionally met. He leaned toward Matthew’s ear to whisper conspiratorially. “Now, we plan. We plan the reunification of the Verger family with their dastardly brother, the world will be a better place and Hell will have some fresh meat on which to feast…”

Matthew gave a tight-lipped smile in response. As long as he got paid, he had no qualms about taking care of some family business.


End file.
